(Extra) Nervous Yet?
by Heroes Fly-Minho's Hero Limps
Summary: Newt rolled his eyes, but didn't answer. "I swear, Min, you couldn't go a day without sex," he replied, shaking his head. And the idea, the wonderful, wicked idea to mess with Newt sparked in Minho's mind. He arched an eyebrow. "Wanna bet?" (Chapter-fic :D And rating will eventually change)
1. Chapter 1

Nervous Yet?

Hey, guys! This is my very first chapter-fic for Minho and Newt as a married couple. I got the idea last night and had to write it. I could easily imagine Minho doing something like this and then regretting it later, haha. I hope you like it, because I can't wait to write more :)

Reviews are welcome and appreciated. Let me know who you want to win ;) ***

Minho loved Newt, he really did.

But sometimes, he just had to mess with him a little.

And this was by far, the most fun way to drive Newt completely crazy.

It began on a Friday night. Newt had had some birthday party thing at work for his boss, Sonya. So he'd had to stay there pretty late for it. This left Minho in the house, alone. The big, quiet, lonely house. There was his cat, Coal, he supposed, but she was asleep somewhere. Besides, talking to a cat wasn't exactly all that entertaining. So Minho did what he normally did when Newt wasn't there.

Wish that Newt was there.

He was lying on the couch at the moment, sprawled out on his back with his socked feet crossed on the couch's arm. He'd thrown on the laziest, most comfortable clothes he owned: gray sweatpants and a white tee. His phone was in his hands and he was thumbing through his pictures. Most of them were of him and Newt. He paused on one in particular. It was a picture of Newt during the summer, smirking at Minho as he told him to put the phone away already. He was standing by the crystal-blue water of a lake, gloriously shirtless and lit to gold by the sun.

Minho sighed softly. "Stupid Sonya and her stupid birthday," he muttered to himself. He flicked to another picture. This one was of Newt and him together; Minho was grinning broadly while Newt placed a kiss to his jaw. Both of them looked lovestruck and happy. He dropped his phone onto his stomach with a huffed breath. "Dammit," he muttered to Newt's picture. "I want you, dumb shank."

"I want you too, darling." The wonderfully accented voice seemed to come out of nowhere.

Minho almost had a stroke as Newt appeared above him, blonde hair flopping down into his eyes. Minho exhaled shakily, giving a nervous laugh as Newt stroked a hand through his hair. "I didn't, um, know you were here yet," he stammered, taken off-guard by Newt's sudden appearance. "How was it?"

"Long. Fun. Lots of music." Newt rattled them off absently. His fingers carded again through Minho's hair.

Minho purred at the sensation. "Music?" he asked, catching that part of the conversation.

"Mm-hm." Newt gently lifted Minho's shoulders and sat on the couch, cradling Minho's head in his lap. He watched his husband sigh blissfully as he continued to play with his hair. "Sonya had everyone dancing like idiots."

"What? There was dancing?" Minho pouted. "I love dancing," he mumbled in childlike despair.

Newt chuckled. "Feeling Good even came on," he murmured, grinning.

"Aw come on," Minho groaned. Feeling Good was his favorite song. "Wish I'd been there." He reached up and tugged at the neckline of Newt's beloved cream hoodie. "I love dancing with you."

Newt smiled. He pulled lightly at Minho's hair. "C'mere, Min."

Minho obediently sat up, moving to sit with his legs over Newt's lap. He smirked crookedly when he realized what Newt wanted. Leaning back, he avoided Newt's attempt to kiss him. "Ohhh, you do want me, don't you?" he asked teasingly.

"You said you wanted me first," Newt pointed out. His fingers travelled slowly along Minho's thigh, up to his hip. Minho felt little tingles over his skin.

"So what?"

"So, kiss me, Minho."

Minho didn't intend to give in that easily. But then Newt hooked his fingers around his waistband at his hip and pulled it down two inches, revealing more skin. Dark blue eyes mischievous, he stroked his thumb over Minho's bare hip. Minho snatched the front of Newt's hoodie in his fist and hauled their mouths together.

The kiss was heated and hungry, both of them fighting for dominance. It was a rare time when Newt won, slipping a hand under Minho's shirt and making him melt. He gave in, letting Newt trace the toned outline of his chest and stomach. Newt angled his head and deepened the kiss. Growling, Minho dropped a hand to Newt's jeans and played with the button. To his surprise, Newt broke the kiss.

"Not tonight, Minho," Newt said breathlessly. "I'm too tired."

Minho stared at him. "...what?" he asked dumbly.

Newt laughed at Minho's expression. "I'm too tired for sex tonight," he explained. "I was at that damn party after work all day..."

Minho looked first at Newt and then at Newt's hand under his shirt. "You gotta be kidding me," he deadpanned.

"Sorry, love." Newt placed a kiss on Minho's nose.

Minho groaned in exaggerated despair. "Do you know what you're doing to me?" he asked. "You can't get me all... You can't...turn me on, and then...do nothing. What am I supposed to do then?"

Newt cocked his head to one side, an amused smile pulling his lips. "I'm turning you on right now?" he asked teasingly.

"You have your hand under my shirt and you were about to pull my shucking pants down," Minho said flatly. "Yes, you smug shank, you were turning me on. Just you saying my name turns me on sometimes, okay?"

"I'll keep that in mind," Newt remarked, a smirk of his own curving his mouth. He pulled his hand from Minho's shirt. "And anyway, you can live without me stripping your clothes off for one night."

Minho studied the blonde carefully. "Are you trying to be sexy to torture me or are you just that sexy when you talk about stripping me?"

Newt rolled his eyes, but didn't answer. "I swear, Min, you couldn't go a day without sex," he replied, shaking his head.

And the idea, the wonderful, wicked idea to mess with Newt sparked in Minho's mind. He arched an eyebrow. "Wanna bet?"

Newt blinked. "Huh?"

Minho held up a finger. "From now on, no sex. At all. First person to give in to the other loses." He tossed Newt his classic, wolfish smirk. "Unless you're scared...?"

Newt scoffed. "You think you can last more than a week?" he asked, looking Minho up and down. "You barely lasted through tonight and all I did was kiss you."

"Remember the day you laid me out on the kitchen table just because I looked at you a certain way?" Minho asked loftily. Newt blushed and his smiled disappeared. Minho felt a flicker of triumph. "Looks like this'll be harder for you than you thought."

"We'll see," Newt flashed back.

Minho grinned challengingly. "Yes, we will."

Newt was so utterly screwed. At least, that was what Minho thought.

It never occurred to him that he might be giving in long before Newt ever would.


	2. Day One

-Day One-

-Hey, guys! So I know this chapter's a bit short, but I think most of them will be this way. They're just little moments of Minho and Newt messing with each other, haha. XD

Enjoy! :)-

Minho waited about twenty-four hours before he decided to torture Newt.

He heard the front door closing and footsteps in the hall near the kitchen. Newt was home. Grinning, Minho glanced at himself in the bathroom mirror again. He'd just gotten out of the shower, and wore nothing but a towel that hung low on his hips. The lovely capital N tattooed on his chest stood out against his skin. He ran a hand through his damp, rumpled hair and opened the bathroom door. Putting on his most innocent expression, he made his way casually down the hallway toward the kitchen.

"Hey, Newt," he called.

Newt's voice drifted back to him. "What?"

"Have you seen my hair gel?"

"Don't you keep it in the bathroom?"

"Yeah, but it's not in there. I don't remember where I put it."

"I have no idea, Minho." By this point, Minho had made it to the kitchen and was pretending to search for his hair gel. He spotted Newt by the counter; the blonde was pulling off the sexy-photographer look well in his Maroon 5 tee, his camera hanging around his neck. "Maybe you left it—" Newt began to turn around, and broke off in the middle of his sentence when he saw Minho.

Minho turned to look on the marble kitchen island, feeling smug as Newt's gaze stayed on him. "What?" he asked lightly, arching an eyebrow.

Newt gawked, his lips parting. "Uhhh...nothing," he stammered. "I was just saying...I thought that...What was I saying?"

"Something about where I left my hair gel," Minho told him helpfully. He couldn't help but smirk knowingly. Newt's eyes were all over him.

"Oh. Um. I don't know where you left it." Newt tore his attention away from Minho and went back to fiddling with his camera. But his fingers were a little trembly and it seemed like he wasn't really seeing it at all.

Too easy. Minho slowly made his way across the kitchen toward Newt, making sure not to be too obvious. "You sure you don't know where it is?" he asked conversationally.

"Uh...I'm sure." Newt shifted his feet, still playing around with his camera. He was making an effort to not look at Minho.

"Oh—wait, I think it might be in here..." Minho abruptly closed the distance between them, reaching back behind Newt toward a cabinet. The action pinned Newt back against the counter.

Newt's eyes widened and he leaned back a bit. "Um. Uh. I—" He swallowed, unable to look away from Minho's muscled, sun-kissed body in front of him. "I can move out of your way, you know." He started to shift to the side.

Suddenly, Minho planted his hands down hard on the counter on either side of Newt. He met Newt's surprised expression with a wicked smirk. "You're not going anywhere."

Realization of what was happening flashed over Newt's features. "Minho," he managed, bracing his hands on the counter to keep from touching Minho.

"Yeah, angel?"

"I'm not giving up on this bet."

Minho cocked his head like he couldn't figure this out. "Who said anything about a bet?" he asked airily. He moved in closer, brushing their foreheads together. A little gasp escaped Newt. "And anyway, the rules are only 'no sex.'"

"So?" Newt couldn't lean back any farther and there was only a gasp of air between them.

Minho glanced down at Newt's shaky hands on the counter. "So you're allowed to touch me, aren't you?" He looked back up at Newt through sooty lashes.

"O—oh," Newt stuttered. Then he inhaled sharply as Minho closed in more, instinctively planting a hand on Minho's stomach. "Oh."

Minho felt his skin burn as Newt's hand inched up his abs. He couldn't help but move his lips to graze over Newt's ear. "You can kiss me too, you know," he whispered.

"Not going to," Newt retorted shortly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"C'mon, Newt." Minho slowly ran his nose along Newt's jaw, earning a tiny sound of want. He stopped and let their foreheads brush, their lips an inch apart. "Give in."

Newt shook his head, but his gaze was fogged over with desire. His hand slipped a little higher to Minho's chest.

"Why not?" Minho asked gently. "I know you want to."

"Min..." Newt swallowed. His index finger moved subconsciously on the N over Minho's heart.

"Just give in to me, sweetheart," Minho breathed. Triumph flickered inside of him when he saw Newt shiver. "Kiss me."

Newt was frozen in place. Then his eyelids started to fall and he leaned in, angling his head, closing the space. Minho watched, his own eyes drifting closed, heartbeat revving up at the very thought of kissing Newt. Newt's bottom lip grazed Minho's. Then he seemed to realize what he was doing.

With a shuddery breath, Newt pulled back fast. "Not gonna happen," he said quickly, then ducked under Minho's arm and out of his trap.

Minho growled under his breath. Dammit. He'd thought he had him. "Aw, come on!" he groaned, watching Newt exhale a deep breath in an attempt to cool off. "It's been a whole DAY."

"Oh, you're so screwed," Newt remarked, with a snicker.

"Am not," Minho sniffed loftily. "You're GOING to give in."

Newt smiled sweetly. "But not today."

That little shank. Minho just grumbled gloomily in reply, and trudged his way back to the kitchen door. "Whatever. I'm gonna find my damn hair gel."


	3. Day Three

-Day Three-

-Here's another chapter, guys! (With a bit of a time-skip) Sorry for not updating in a little while. I was sick for a few days and that made it a bit hard to write. :P Anyway, Newt really gets his revenge in this one ;)

Thank you for the reviews you left; they always inspire me to keep writing. Let me know what you think! :)

PS: Thanks to Newt, this fanfic is officially rated M. Nothing too graphic, but...yeah. He definitely gets some good revenge on Minho... XD-

Two days later, Minho was doing his best to push the bet out of his mind. At least for now. It was hard to think about torturing Newt when they were watching his favorite movie.

He was stretched out on his back on the couch, head propped up on a pillow. It was late in the evening, the room washed in orange lamplight and the glow of the TV. Something's Gotta Give played on the screen. Newt was lying on top of Minho, head on Minho's chest, their legs twined together. His eyelids were drooping lazily as Minho played with his hair. Everything was quiet, except for the quiet talk from the TV.

Maybe that was why it was such a surprise when Newt suddenly lifted his head and briefly kissed Minho's mouth. Minho blinked, his eyebrow rising as Newt drew back again. "What was that for?"

Newt brought his hands up to Minho's shoulders, snuggling against him again. "Just wanted to kiss you," he replied simply.

"No reason?" Minho asked a little warily.

"No reason."

"Whatever you say."

"Uh-huh."

Minho tried for a casual tone. "...kiss me again?"

Newt chuckled in amusement. He gave Minho a look. "This means nothing about the bet," he warned, sliding a bit up Minho's body so that their mouths were only inches apart.

"Of course," Minho replied innocently, just before Newt brushed their lips together.

The kiss was soft and slow, meant to be short. But it deepened after a few moments, as Minho kept his hands chastely on Newt's waist. Newt angled his head, gently nipping Minho's lower lip, and Minho felt himself melting. The blonde's hands slid from Minho's shoulders, skimming over his biceps and down his arms. A small sigh escaped Minho at the touch. He cupped Newt's face with one hand. He didn't notice Newt's hands traveling down his body until they reached his waistband, and by then it was too late. He had two seconds to hear his jeans coming undone and then Newt's hand slipped inside.

"N—Newt," he gasped out, breaking the kiss. Newt's hand closed over him inside his boxers and he choked on another gasp.

"Something wrong?" Newt asked sweetly. As he spoke, he rubbed his thumb back and forth over Minho.

Minho blushed embarrassedly when he let out a pleading whine. It had only been three days since Newt had touched him like this, skin on skin, and already he was nearly delirious. He inhaled a shuddery breath. "What're you—doing?" he managed. "Thought you weren't—giving in."

"Oh, I'm not," Newt returned, still in that light, accented voice. "You are."

"You little—" Minho broke off with a whimper as Newt stroked his hand down his length, pausing before stroking back up again. Minho's chest rose and fell with every breath.

Newt's mouth curved into a smirk of his own. "Give in, yet?"

"N—no," Minho stammered stubbornly, even as his body begged for more of this pleasure. His fingers were clawing into the back of Newt's shirt, desperate to find something to keep him grounded. Newt shrugged in mock pity and shocked Minho when he gave him one, hard thrust with his hand. Minho arched his back, moaning, lifting his hips up into Newt.

"It's over, Minho," Newt murmured. He ducked down to kiss Minho's neck. "Let me make love to you." He moved his hand again and Minho fisted his hands in Newt's shirt.

"Please," Minho groaned, not even sure what he was begging for. "Please, Newt."

"Whatever you want, love." Newt grinned evilly, and started moving his hand against Minho again and again.

Minho bucked his hips into Newt's touch, panting. He could hear someone whimpering helplessly and knew it was him. His breath caught as Newt leaned in close, lips grazing his ear. "Give in, darling," he whispered softly.

Minho gritted his teeth, reaching down to grip the couch cushions beneath him. Newt's touch left him for a moment as the blonde snagged the sides of his jeans and began to tug them down. Minho growled, forcing himself to NOT think about stripping Newt down on this couch. He grabbed Newt's wrists to stop him and quickly swung his legs over the couch, slipping out from under him. He straightened up, hair tousled and jeans undone. "I'm not giving in," he stated simply, pointing at Newt.

Newt propped himself up on an elbow, muttering in annoyance. "Shit," he mumbled, raking a hand through his hair. "I thought—"

"You thought wrong," Minho cut him off with the suggestion of a smirk. He ran a hand over his hair and buttoned his jeans again. "Sorry, love; you aren't winning today."

"I freaking hate you." Newt scowled at him, still frustrated.

Minho simply smirked even more. "Love you too, sweetheart."

"Oh, shut up."


	4. Day Six

-Day Six-

-Hey guys! Thanks for the reviews again. They always make my day :)

So this chapter is a little longer and has some Valentine's Day in it! (Even though it's a bit late for that...) I hope you like it! :D

PS. My song choice for this chapter was picked because it's just perfect for this story. You'll see what I mean ;)-

Okay, so it had been about a week since the beginning of the bet.

Three days since Newt had made a biiiiig mistake. Minho was going to have to plan this revenge carefully. He had to get Newt right where he wanted him tonight. Because he was NOT leaving this party without getting sex from his husband.

Yes, party.

In honor of Valentine's Day, Brenda had thrown a gigantic party at her house. Basically, she invited everyone she knew. And Brenda knew quite a bit of people. Her house was more like a mansion, thanks to her rich family and their government jobs. It was a thing of soaring white walls and lovely furniture and sprawling rooms. There were dozens of places to hide, and dozens more to lose yourself in. Tonight, her monstrous living room had been converted to a dance floor. It was dark, only lit by multicolored lights streaking from hidden places in the walls. The towering speakers blasted music, the pounding beat shaking the roof. The room was already crowded with all of Brenda's friends, moving to the music and laughing happily.

Minho took one look and grinned. He really did love dancing. Plus, he knew it drove Newt wild when they danced together. Sometimes, dancing was almost better than sex. Sometimes.

Brenda had just vanished into the crowd after greeting Minho and Newt at the front door. She had giggled cheerfully, and said something about "getting it on on the dance floor" before she left to pick her favorite song to play. That girl was a little nuts, but she did have good taste in music.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Isaac," Minho said, sweeping an arm at the moving mass of dancers with an air of bravado. He glanced sideways at Newt.

Newt blinked, an adorably puzzled expression on his face. "I can't remember the last time you called me that," he remarked with a chuckle. He nudged Minho's arm with his own. "Happy Valentine's Day, Min."

Catch him off-guard: check.

Minho reached down and intertwined their fingers affectionately. "You know, even though I had to drag you here," he began, looking up at Newt with soulful eyes, "I'm glad you came." He rubbed his thumb over the back of Newt's hand.

Newt blushed and dropped his gaze. "Yeah, whatever," he mumbled sheepishly, a dopey smile pulling his lips. He looked positively gorgeous in his somewhat-tight blue T-shirt, a black design drawn across his chest. And the way those jeans clung to him made Minho lose his breath.

Get him vulnerable: check.

Minho nodded toward the dance floor. "So...you wanna dance?" he asked sweetly.

Newt wanted to grin so much, he had to bite his lip. He was as addicted to dancing with Minho as Minho was to him. "I dunno..."

"Aw, come on." Minho tugged lightly at Newt's hand, pulling him farther from the front door. He reeled the blonde in close, allowing their chests to brush once. "Dance with me, sweetheart?" he asked in a low whisper.

Newt shivered. "Fine."

Get him onto the dance floor: check.

Now Minho just needed a good song to work with here. He would've loved it if Feeling Good came on. But there were others that would work here: Talk Dirty, Harder to Breathe, Wobble (oh god, that'd be interesting), Slow Down... The next thing he knew, electric guitar was flooding from the speakers in sinful notes and a voice began to sing:

"You build me up, you knock me down,

Provoke a smile, you make me frown,

You are the queen of runaround, you know it's true..."

Shiver, by Maroon 5. Minho could definitely make Newt crazy with this song. Grinning broadly, he hauled Newt out into the center of the floor with him. Newt was pink in the face, glancing around at the people dancing around them. Someone had started doing some dance move at the beginning of the song and now everyone was jumping into it. A girl nearby was pretty good at it, leaning back, rolling her hips to the beat, her hands in the air. This was going to be interesting.

"You chew me up, you spit me out,

Enjoy the taste I leave in your mouth,

You look at me, I look at you,

Neither of us know what to do"

"C'mon," Minho laughed, and dragged Newt up against him. His chest was touching Newt's back, as the lyrics worked their way into both of them. Resting his hands politely on Newt's waist, Minho started both of them into the moves. Newt let out a burst of laughter as they danced as one, leaning when the crowd did, moving their hips to the music. His hands went to Minho's on his waist and he let them mold together.

"There may not be another way

To your heart

So I guess I better find a new way in

And I shiver when I hear your name

Think about you, but it's not the same

I won't be satisfied 'til I'm under your skin..."

The lights cut through the mass of people in bursts, shining on raised arms and couples drunk on each other. Minho was growing drunk himself. He couldn't help it. Newt was incredibly intoxicating in that moment; the dance moves made Minho practically grind himself on the stunning blonde, whose hands had come up to link behind his neck, blue eyes fogged over.

His hands slipped down to Newt's hips, way too low to be chaste. Newt's head was tilted back on Minho's shoulder, his eyes drifting shut. Minho stared at him, at Newt's tousled hair and flushed skin, at the seductive way their bodies moved together. Damn, Newt had never been so sexy. He tried to remember the last time he'd felt this alive and this in love. Lowering his lips to Newt's ear, he murmured, "you're beautiful, angel."

Newt's mouth curved up and his body melted even more into Minho's.

"Immobilized by the thought of you,

I'm paralyzed by the sight of you,

I'm hypnotized by the words you say,

Not true, but I believe them anyway,

So come to bed, it's getting late,

There's no more time for us to waste,

Remember how my body tastes?

You feel your heart begin to race..."

The song was like flames around them, the lyrics turned to sparks in this dim room. Minho sang the words in hushed whispers into Newt's ear as they danced. Newt held Minho closer, even though there was already no space at all between them. He was done for, utterly caught in everything Minho did. Minho could see it in Newt's expression, the way he moved, the way he looked at him with those stormy eyes. It was enough to make his knees weak. "You're mine," he murmured, and guided Newt away from the other dancers.

This was the last part of the plan: get Newt alone.

They ducked down a hallway, trying to stifle their giddy laughter. Minho's hand was in Newt's, with their fingers laced together once more. He felt like a teenager again, sneaking away with Newt to a place they could have to themselves, snickering to each other like they used to. He found a side door and quickly pulled it open. It was one of Brenda's many large bathrooms, with a wide sink and huge shower. Minho hauled Newt inside and shut the door behind them.

Newt was breathless and grinning crookedly when Minho pushed him back against the door. "You still know how to dance, at least," he remarked playfully.

Minho reached down to lock the door. "You do too," he replied with a smirk. He braced his forearms on the door, on either side of Newt's head.

"God, you're sexy," Newt exhaled, slinging his fingers in Minho's belt loops.

Minho stroked his thumb over Newt's bottom lip and Newt gasped sharply. Minho's control crumbled at the sound. "I have to kiss you," he murmured quickly, before pressing his mouth to Newt's.

Newt was kissing him back instantly, hungry and heated. At least for this moment, thoughts of the bet were gone. Minho lost himself in Newt, cupping his face in his hands. The blonde's hands made their way around his waist and slid into his back pockets. Growling, he stepped forward and sucked lightly on Newt's lower lip.

Newt broke the kiss for air, breathing hard. Minho needed more; he kissed his way down Newt's neck, teasing his skin with his teeth. Newt tipped his head back and let out a whimper. "Tell me," he managed, clinging to Minho.

"Tell you what?" Minho asked in a murmur. He snagged the hem of Newt's shirt and helped him strip it off. His fingertips fell to Newt's waist, on bare golden skin.

Newt shuddered. "Tell me you love me," he pleaded.

Minho ran his nose down Newt's throat. "I love you," he breathed immediately. "My darling, my angel, I love you."

Newt tugged him closer and Minho placed tiny kisses along his collarbone. Sighing in bliss, Newt closed his eyes at the touches. Bold, Minho nipped at Newt's neck, then ran his tongue lightly over the bite. A broken moan escaped Newt. "Minho..." His breath hitched as Minho grabbed his wrists and pinned them back against the door.

"Say you're mine," Minho whispered. He lowered his mouth to Newt's shoulder, exploring more skin. Stepping forward, he settled one leg between Newt's, bringing his knee up between the blonde's thighs.

Newt mewled, rocking his hips forward into Minho's touch. "I'm yours," he choked out desperately.

Minho traced his mouth along Newt's shoulder, felt him tremble. A half-smirk pulled at his lips. "Then give in," he murmured, a darker tone slipping into his voice.

"...dammit," Newt growled. His head fell back against the door on its own, his chest rising and falling. "Minho, I'm not—"

Minho raised his knee slightly between Newt's legs and Newt's words dissolved in a groan. Grinning, Minho placed a tender kiss to Newt's shoulder; lingering there, he sucked at Newt's skin. Newt's breathless pants told him he wasn't going to resist. He drew back just a bit. "Giving up?" he asked.

Newt shook his head stubbornly. Minho sent him a pitying look. "Your choice," he said with a shrug. Then his mouth curled in sinister intent. He dropped Newt's wrists and hooked his fingers in Newt's waistband. "I'll just keep taking your clothes off until you change your mind."

Newt flushed at the words. "W—wait," he stuttered, pushing at Minho's shoulders. Minho stopped his next words with a kiss, undoing his jeans. Newt kissed back despite himself, and pushed his hips forward into Minho.

"I win," Minho whispered into his mouth.

Suddenly, Newt broke the kiss roughly and managed to tear himself away from Minho. Giving his husband a stern look, he took a steadying breath. "...no, you don't," he stated matter-of-factly. "Because I am NOT about to have sex with you in Brenda's bathroom. I'm desperate, but I'm not that desperate."

Minho groaned in disappointment. "Dammit, Newt," he complained, watching Newt buttoning his jeans again. "WHEN will you be that desperate? I would love to know."

Newt flashed him a smug smile. "I'm sure you would."

"Ughhhh, it's been a WEEK..."

"As I've said before: you're so screwed."

"No I'm not, shut up."

Newt chuckled, picking up his shirt. He grinned at Minho as he pulled the sleeves over his arms. "Whatever. Let me know when you're done being in denial."


	5. Day Eight

-Day Eight-

-well, here it is! Another chapter! Thank you all for the reviews; they always inspire me to keep writing. Hope you like it, let me know what you think :)-

Well, here he was, officially crossing the one-week mark.

And Minho was starting to act positively ridiculous.

He couldn't control himself around Newt. He fidgeted, and his hands were shaky, and he was just downright nervous. He glanced repeatedly at Newt when they sat next to each other; he stammered like a fool when they talked; he jumped every time they touched, even for a brief moment. Why, he was acting like a lovestruck teenager again. And all because they hadn't had sex for eight days!

Minho was really starting to hope that he wasn't as screwed as Newt thought he was.

The eighth day found him walking out of the bathroom after a shower, in only a pair of Levi's as he headed back to the bedroom for a shirt. He had a class soon, up at the music store where he worked. He was supposed to be helping a little boy learn how to play guitar. Out in the hall, he made it about two steps before he nearly collided with Newt. Of course, his body jerked like he'd just had a heart attack and his pulse sped rapidly.

Newt's eyebrows rose as he took a step back. "Sorry," he said with a smile. "Heading to work?"

"Um. Yeah." Minho swallowed, fully aware that he was vulnerably shirtless in front of Newt.

"Who're you teaching today?" Newt asked conversationally.

"Uh, a little kid named Bryan. He's only nine, but I think he'll like it."

"Of course he will." Newt's smile widened. "You're a great teacher."

Minho grinned like a moron under Newt's praise. "Thanks," he mumbled. Everything seemed to make him crazy for the blonde now. "I'll see you later, okay?" He started to walk around Newt toward the bedroom.

To his surprise, Newt placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him. Tiny flames shot into his skin. "Wait, Min."

"What is it?" Minho backed up to face Newt again, questioning.

Newt cocked his head, with a cute quirk to his mouth. "Aren't you gonna kiss me before you leave?" he asked softly.

Minho's heart stuttered wildly. "O—oh." He gave an apologetic smile, and leaned in to briefly peck Newt's lips. The softness of Newt's mouth sent a pleasant shock through his body.

Newt chuckled when Minho drew back, shaking his head slightly. Then he glanced up at Minho through those golden lashes and something like mischief entered his smoky blue eyes. "You call that a kiss?" he asked in a murmur.

And before Minho could answer, Newt caught him by the back of the neck and locked their mouths together. Minho's entire being came alive in that instant, electricity rocketing into his veins. Oh god, how long had it been since Newt had kissed him like this?

He seized Newt by the waist and kissed back hungrily. The taste of it left him lightheaded and shivery. He felt Newt's tongue run along his bottom lip and a pleading whimper escaped him. With a gasp, Newt planted his hands on Minho's chest and shoved him back against the wall. They were all over each other within seconds. No clothes came off, but it really didn't matter. Minho could feel Newt's touch everywhere, fingers running down his arms, stroking over his chest, lacing through his hair. He was quickly drunk with it. He pressed his hands to the small of Newt's back and forced the blonde up against him; their bodies were flush together from chest to toes, and their kissing turned even more frantic.

Abruptly, a low sound left the back of Minho's throat and he broke away with a gasp. "Oh god, Newt," he panted, trying to find enough air. "Th—that was..."

"Shucking hot," Newt murmured huskily, and Minho nearly ripped his clothes off right then.

"Yeah," he agreed stupidly.

Newt smirked slightly at Minho's expression. Then he leaned in close, their cheeks brushing, and placed his lips close to Minho's ear. "See you later, love," he whispered, making Minho tremble.

"I...Um...Er..." Minho stuttered as Newt pulled back, shocked at this new, devilish side of Newt. His sweet, lovely husband had been replaced with this tempting, dead-sexy angel in front of him. It took everything he had to not drag Newt to a bed and have his way with him. Because damn, he wanted to.

Newt laughed, a light and innocent sound. "You're adorable, Minho," he murmured, and touched a kiss to Minho's nose. He was smiling sweetly now. He took a step back. "Now go already. I'll be here when you get back." He bit his lower lip bashfully.

Oh my god, I want you so badly, it hurts, Minho thought. He forced himself not to say it out loud. "Um, okay," he managed. He let out a short breath, hoping to stop the heated rush of his blood. "Okay."

Newt's gaze lit up tauntingly, and then he turned away, walking like he knew how much he was driving Minho wild. And Minho felt another piece of his sanity break apart.

-o-o-o-

"What do you mean, you're leaving?"

Minho had come home later to see a stressed-looking Newt lugging a large bag into the kitchen. After a brief explanation that he had to leave for a while, the blonde had started packing clothes and other things for a long trip. Now he glanced up at Minho with a sigh. "It's Sonya," he explained, casting a dark look up at the ceiling. "There's some big photography thing going on in Glade City and she wants all of her photographers to go with her and check it out. It's three days long, so I'll be gone for a little while, not that I really want to go." He went back to folding a red hoodie.

"Freakin' Sonya," Minho muttered. That crazy photographer always went through things like this, wanting to make her shop, Framed better. He understood that she wanted to improve, but come on. Glade City was a while away from here. At most, Newt would probably be gone for a week.

"Yeah, I know," Newt sighed. Then he tossed Minho a smile. "It's only for a little while. I'll be back in five days, six tops."

"That's a long time," Minho mumbled, "to me."

Newt raised an eyebrow at him. "It'll make the bet a lot easier though, won't it?" he asked playfully. "You won't have me around to torture you."

"Whatever," Minho scoffed. "I was torturing you too, remember?"

"Yeah, but that's kinda normal for you." Newt finished shoving the hoodie into his bag and zipped it shut with an air of finality.

"What d'you mean, it's normal for me?" Minho asked, tipping his head to one side in confusion.

Newt rolled his eyes. "You can't pretend you don't know about all the times you've tried to make me crazy before."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, you don't?"

"No. I'd never try to torture you every day."

Newt snorted. "You know you do and you bloody enjoy it," he stated, taking a couple steps to stand in front of Minho. He looped his arms loosely around Minho's waist. "You like being a tease," he said softly, smiling with one side of his mouth.

Minho linked his hands behind Newt's neck. "I can't argue with that," he admitted with half a cocky smirk.

Newt looked at him for a long moment through half-closed eyes. Then he rested his forehead against Minho's. "My heart," he whispered, and kissed Minho's mouth briefly. "I don't wanna leave you. But this is only for a week. Okay?"

"Yeah," Minho sighed. He stroked a hand over Newt's silky blonde hair and smiled. "I'll miss you."

Newt grinned. "Try not to replace me while I'm gone," he joked, and stepped back out of Minho's embrace. He snagged his bag from the table and started for the doorway.

Minho watched him go for a moment. He shifted his feet a little sheepishly. "I love you."

Newt paused, looked back. A softness entered his gaze. "I love you too," he replied, emotion in his voice. "I'll be back soon, promise." With that, he turned back and headed down to the front door again. Two seconds later, it slammed shut behind him.

And so began Minho's week without Newt.


	6. Day Eleven

-Day Eleven-

Hey guys! I'm sorry that I haven't been updating! I just got into some grade-trouble with my parents and they've taken my iPod, which is what I use to write. This is probably the last update for a while and I'm sorry for how short this chapter is. :(

Anyway, I'll be writing more as soon as I can, so hang in there for me, okay? Love you all for the reviews and support! Can't wait to really start writing again :)

It was the nights that were hardest.

Twelve o'clock, and here Minho was, still awake, trying to ignore the empty space in the bed beside him. It was very dark that night, with clouds covering the moon; it made the room around him pitch black with shadows. So it should've been easy to be alone, considering he couldn't see well enough to look at that unoccupied space in bed. But it wasn't. It sucked.

Minho knew he was being foolish and silly. He'd lived twenty-one years of his life without sleeping next to Newt. He should be used to it. He should know how to sleep with no one there. Annnnd he didn't. He couldn't even remember how he'd possibly been able to fall asleep before. How could you fall asleep without the person you needed beside you?

In the dark, Minho heaved a long sigh. This was stupid. Normally, right now, he'd have Newt's arms around him. Sometimes, Newt slept up against Minho's back, an arm curled around his waist and his cheek resting between his shoulder blades. Minho could feel his heartbeat. There were rare times when they kept to their sides of the bed. In the morning, they always woke to find they'd moved to hold each other in their sleep. Most of the time, though, Minho had Newt's head tucked against his chest, holding his angel close in the dark. He didn't like thinking about that now. It hurt, like a prick in his skin, reminding him that something was wrong here.

A bit awkwardly, he snatched Newt's pillow and hugged it against him. Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine that it was Newt he was holding. He buried his nose in the soft fabric. There was a hint of Newt's scent caught in it, a touch of cinnamon and sugar. But he hadn't been there for three days and now it smelled more like Minho's cologne. Besides, a pillow couldn't hug you back. He growled softly in frustration. I miss you, he thought uselessly.

He hoped Newt was missing him just as much right now.

-o-o-o-

No matter what he tried, Newt couldn't get himself to fall asleep. And it was really starting to bother him.

The hotel at Glade City was nice enough. It was a place of mint-green walls, dark wooden floors, and elegant furniture. The beds were sprawling things of soft sheets and blankets. The window showed a starlit view of the city streets and the glimmering lights of distant buildings. Newt was glad that Sonya had found a place so beautiful for the gang to spend the night in. But as beautiful as it was, it was still missing something.

Newt grimaced in discomfort and shifted to a better position in bed. The covers felt cold and unfamiliar. It might have been bearable if Minho had been there. Newt felt hopelessly lonely. All day long, the photographer-couple of Clint and Jeff had been acting all adorable with each other. Newt loved his two friends, and the fact that they were so well-suited for each other. But, after three days of watching them holding hands, and stealing kisses, he felt hollow inside.

Minho would've held his hand, while they walked down the street. Minho would've dragged him into a kiss when no one was looking. Minho should be there with him now. He grinned to himself when he thought of it. It was easy to imagine Minho there, pulling Newt into an embrace, smirking that devil-may-care smirk of his. Whispering hushed words into Newt's ear as they laid there together. Making Newt want him.

Newt huffed a weary breath at that. He'd never admit it, but this bet was killing him. There were times now when he'd want Minho so much, he almost lost his mind and threw himself at his husband. Especially when Minho did things like walking around shirtless, with those broad shoulders and delicious-looking abs; he looked so insanely sexy then, that it made Newt's heart stop beating.

Alone in the hotel room, he closed his eyes. God, he wanted Minho right now.

The end of this trip couldn't come fast enough.


	7. Day Fourteen

-Day Fourteen-

-Yay, I'm back! New chapter! Hope you all like it! This short story might be ending soon, so get ready to find out who wins! Reviews, please? ;)-

If Minho had been acting ridiculous before, he was acting even more ridiculous now.

It was a bright day, a promise of fair weather in the clear, blue skies. Sunlight illuminated the grass outside, turning it and the trees to striking emerald. Outside the windows, he glimpsed people walking down the streets together, laughing and talking happily. It really was a great day to be out. But he couldn't go out. Newt was coming home today. He'd called earlier, and said he'd be there any minute. Of course, the sound of his voice, weighed down by his lovely British accent, had sent Minho's pulse skipping. Even over the phone, it was like a drug to listen to, and Minho drowned in it.

He was in the kitchen right now, unsure of what to do with himself. He felt giddy and nervous all at the same time. Leaning back against the counter, he fiddled with the hem of his white T-shirt. Restlessness made him want to move, to do something. But there was nothing to do but wait. He willed the front door to open.

A tiny meow to his right made him glance over. The red-and-white form of his kitten, Coal was stalking along the edge of the counter. She delicately placed one paw in front of the other, her feathery tail winding in the air behind her. As Minho watched, with a half-smile, she blinked up at him through honey-golden eyes. There seemed to be a question in her gaze. "What're you looking at?" he asked, scratching her behind the ears.

Coal purred contentedly, nosing the palm of his hand. She meowed again, more insistent than before.

Minho shrugged with one shoulder. "Yeah, I'm wondering where he is too," he muttered in complaint. Then he realized that, once again, he was lonely enough to talk to his cat. Fantastic.

Coal was, of course, unconcerned about Newt. She closed her eyes to slits as Minho continued to stroke his fingertips down her neck; she rubbed her forehead appreciatively against his arm, folding her legs under her as she sat. Minho chuckled as she poked her nose curiously at his wedding ring.

The sudden sound of keys in a lock made him jump in surprise. There were a couple of clicks from somewhere down the hallway, as the door unlocked. Then it was swinging open and the shuffling of bags and feet came, along with a familiar voice. "Damn cameras, these things are so shucking heavy. Next time we go on a trip, Sonya better pay me." A pause. The thump of a bag hitting the floor. Then: "...Minho?"

"I'm here." Heartbeat dancing, Minho stepped out from the kitchen and practically jogged to the front hall. He skidded to a halt in the entrance, just as the front door was shutting again. A wide smile threatened to surface on his face.

Newt was standing next to a bulging bag, turning a camera over in his hands. His charcoal-blue eyes were narrowed as he studied it. He looked good in a long-sleeved, navy shirt and faded jeans. His gaze flitted upward at Minho's presence. "Hey, Min," he greeted, and his voice was like sun-warmed honey. His lips curved up.

"Hi," Minho replied in an almost-mumble. He felt like a shy kid with a crush. He took a few steps closer, then slung his thumbs in his pockets. His hands itched to run through Newt's hair or press into his hips.

Newt set the camera carefully on top of his bag. "So, uh," he began mischievously, "you miss me?"

"Course I did, you shank," Minho returned good-humoredly. He struggled not to flush at the confession.

"I knew you would." Newt chuckled triumphantly. Then he looked at Minho and his expression softened. "I missed you too," he admitted, shuffling one foot on the hardwood floor. "I could barely sleep without you."

Minho remembered the too-long nights he spent alone, and his entire body simply ACHED to touch Newt. "I couldn't sleep either," he replied quietly.

"Guess we're both kinda—" Newt was cut off when Minho abruptly strode to him and wrapped his arms around his waist. He pulled Newt up against him without a word. Newt blinked, surprised. Then he felt the warmth of Minho's body on his and he hugged back with a sigh.

Minho felt as though a weight had been lifted from him. He buried his face in the crook of Newt's neck and drank in the sweet scent of him. A blissful exhaled escaped his lungs. Just— This. Holding Newt. He hadn't really realized how much he'd needed it until he was doing it again. "Next time, just take me with you," he mumbled. Lifting his head, he met Newt's gaze with a warm smile.

Newt laughed. "If there is a next time, then yeah. But Sonya'll get suspicious if we share a hotel room together."

Minho arched an eyebrow. "Didn't Clint and Jeff share a room?" he asked.

"Yeah," Newt answered, and cast a look up toward the ceiling. "And you could hear them all shucking night."

"That's hilarious," Minho snickered darkly. He then quickly muttered an apology when Newt lightly smacked him on the arm. He shrugged. "Hey, it isn't my fault they don't know how to be quiet."

"Oh, and you do?" Newt queried.

Minho's face flamed at that. "I can—I know how to BE QUIET," he stammered defensively.

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

Newt studied him critically. "So you're saying that if I lost this bet we have going on," he began slowly, "you wouldn't make one sound the entire time?"

Minho was pretty sure his face was crimson by now. Because if Newt gave in and threw Minho back onto a bed right now, he would be a mess, begging for more. He knew he would, and it only made him WANT it. He cleared his throat. "...no. I wouldn't." It was such a lie.

Newt was all too-aware of it, too. "All right, if you're sure..." He trailed off, and bent his head closer to Minho's. Minho swallowed uneasily as Newt's mouth found his neck, soft on his skin. His fingers tightened on Newt's waist. Newt ghosted tiny kisses down Minho's throat, pausing at the neckline of his T-shirt. Minho was frozen in place, almost afraid to move. This was too much, too vulnerable. He didn't trust himself.

He felt Newt's hands dropping to his hips, toying with the bottom of his shirt. Newt snuck a hand underneath and pressed his palm flat against the ripple of Minho's stomach. Minho bit his lip. Then the smallest of gasps left him as Newt's hand travelled farther, up to his chest. He shut his eyes. "Angel." The name came out the way he might've said "stop."

Newt's lips found Minho's ear and a rough, sinful whisper made Minho tremble. "Nervous yet?"

Minho clung to Newt, not wanting to give in, but not wanting to let go either. Then Newt kissed his neck, and though it was slow, it was all tongue and teeth. He lingered at a place beneath Minho's jaw. With a low growl that shocked Minho, he sank his teeth gently into the sensitive skin. Minho couldn't help it; he groaned weakly, tipping his head to let Newt have more skin to explore. Newt stayed in that same spot, torturing his husband, nibbling harshly at his neck. His teeth dug in particularly hard and Minho hissed partly in pain, partly in pleasure.

Now he knew what Newt was doing. He was going to leave a damn hickey. On shucking PURPOSE. That little shank.

"Newt..." Minho clutched the back of Newt's shirt in his hands, searching for anything to keep him sane. Newt's tongue grazed his jaw and a tortured sound came from the back of his throat.

"Just give in, Minho," Newt growled. The hand under Minho's shirt was tense on his chest. Desire laced his voice. He caught Minho's earlobe between his teeth, issuing a sharp intake of breath. "I WANT you. I want you now, so just—give in already."

Minho fought for enough air as Newt's mouth burned his skin. "Not before you do," he managed.

"Dammit, Min." Newt nosed into the curve of Minho's collarbone, frustration making him harsh when he nipped at his husband's throat. "You're killing me."

Minho grinned triumphantly and cupped Newt's jaw in his hands. Guiding the blonde's face to his, he left a tender kiss on Newt's mouth. It was sweetly innocent compared to the other things he was thinking of doing to Newt right now. "Sorry, love," he murmured against Newt's mouth. "But you're gonna have to do better than that."

In reply, Newt groaned in despair.

Well, Minho thought, this bet might get a little more interesting.


	8. Day Fifteen

-Day Fifteen-

-Well, here it is: the end of another story. And I think a lot of you are gonna enjoy this ending ;) Thanks to all who reviewed and read and picked Team Minho or Team Newt during this short story of mine. Readers like you guys make my day. I'll be writing more in the future, so don't worry; more Minewt is coming. For now, let me know what you all thought of Nervous Yet? :)-

Minho needed a new plan. Something he could do that would be so irresistible, Newt wouldn't be able to say no. Because come ON. It had been about three weeks. Three shucking weeks. Minho was losing every piece of the sanity he had left. It didn't help that Newt just seemed to get sexier and sexier every damn minute. Minho was obsessed with the way Newt did everything; the way he bit his lip when he thought, the way his eyelids lowered when he looked at his cameras, the way he said Minho's name. Minho couldn't stand it anymore.

Very late that evening, on the fifteenth day, Coal stretched out her legs and then trotted out of the bedroom. Because, as usual, a meaningless conversation was occurring.

"What if we called it off for one night?" Minho was asking hopefully. He rested his back against the doorframe while he kicked out of his boots.

Already reclining on the sprawling bed with a book, Newt rolled his eyes. "Not gonna happen," he answered. "That counts as giving in."

"Not if we're both okay with it; it would be like a break from the bet for one night and then tomorrow, it's back on."

"You know you'd find some way to accuse ME of giving in to YOU."

Minho placed a hand over his chest as though wounded. "It hurts me to know that you have so little trust in me," he said. "I might actually cry."

Newt snorted and didn't glance up from his book. "No you won't."

"Then I'll divorce you."

"You won't do that either."

"That's awful."

"What?"

"That I can threaten you with divorce and you still won't have sex with me. Something is wrong there." Minho pouted, a whine of complaint leaving him. "I'm not irresistible anymore," he mumbled, like he'd just lost something unbelievably important to him.

Newt gave his husband a fake look of sympathy. "This is a dark moment for you, isn't it?"

"Shut up," Minho returned, pushing off the doorframe. "I haven't given in yet either, so just remember that next time you make fun of me." Grabbing the hem of his shirt, he peeled it off and balled the fabric up in his hands. He took careful aim and then threw it at Newt's head.

Newt growled indignantly as it hit his chest and he shot Minho a scowl. Snatching up the shirt, he tossed it on the floor and tried to go back to reading. He lost his place when Minho flopped onto his back, sideways on the mattress. His head was by Newt's knees and his legs still dangled over the side of the bed. He watched Newt read for a minute.

"Wanna stop reading?" he asked sweetly.

"No."

"Wanna make out?"

"No."

"Wanna make love...?"

"Not if it's with you."

"Ouch." Minho threw Newt a roguish smirk then. "On a happier note, you're really pulling off the hot-nerd look right now with your book," he remarked in a lower tone. He reached up and tugged at Newt's blue-and-black pj bottoms. "I love your pj's."

Newt cracked a half-smile. "At least I WEAR pj's," he said pointedly, glancing sideways as Minho started to undo his jeans.

"It's not like I sleep naked," Minho protested defensively. He shoved his jeans off, then rolled to lay on his stomach; grinning, he trailed circles on Newt's thigh with one finger. "Unless you want me to..."

"I don't," Newt brushed him off, with surprising easiness. Then his smile widened as Minho's fingers travelled onto his bare stomach. "Stop it, Min."

"Why?" Minho dropped a kiss on Newt's shoulder. "Am I driving you crazy yet?"

"I'm going to sleep," Newt announced abruptly. He slapped his book shut and tossed it carelessly onto the bedside table.

"Nooo," Minho groaned sorrowfully. "Stay up with me." He rested his cheek on Newt's shoulder and continued to sketch patterns on the blonde's stomach with his fingers.

"GOODNIGHT, Minho," Newt said meaningfully in reply. He tilted Minho's chin up with two fingers and left a pitifully short kiss on his lips. Minho growled at the chasteness, but Newt was already flicking off the lights and sinking beneath the covers.

"I really hate you," Minho grumbled, scooting to his side of the bed and throwing the blankets over himself. He was acting like a scolded child, but he honestly didn't care.

Newt's light voice came from the other side of the mattress: "love you too, sweetheart."

Still muttering under his breath, Minho settled onto his side, facing toward Newt; he had a view of Newt's back in the gathering dark, all smooth and moonlit. He nearly reached out to run his fingers down Newt's spine, but thought better of it. Huffing a short breath, he tried to get comfortable under the sheets and closed his eyes. The quiet instantly intensified around him, as though it was a living thing standing over him. It was broken only by the lullaby of Newt's breathing and Coal's pawsteps wandering down the hall. She'd probably go to sleep on the couch, where she loved to curl up at night. She'd be out cold within minutes. Minho wished he fell asleep that fast.

He was just beginning to doze off when Newt's voice spoke again, quiet in the dark. "Hey, Minho?"

"Hm?" Minho opened his eyes, eyebrows rising when he saw that Newt was now facing him.

Newt propped himself up on an elbow, his blue eyes gleaming in the moonlight. There was something like nervousness in them. "You...uh..." He trailed off, then continued in a different tone. "You still wanna make out?"

Minho stared. Then he was across the bed in less than a second, pinning Newt beneath him with his forearms braced on the mattress. Newt's sharp gasp tore the silence as he found himself under Minho, body heat flooding between them. Minho allowed himself the satisfaction of seeing the want clouding Newt's eyes, before he captured the blonde's mouth with his. They were kissing heatedly within seconds, mindless. Newt tangled his fingers in Minho's hair. It was a week's worth of kissing that they'd missed while Newt was away, a week's worth of touches. Minho's mind was blank. One hand had curled in the front Newt's pants before he knew what he was doing and was pulling them downward. Newt's back arched as his body pleaded for more, but his hand closed over Minho's to stop him. He broke the kiss, fighting for breath. "No clothes off," he panted. "Or—"

"Or you'll lose," Minho finished for him huskily. Damn, Newt looked oh-so-edible with his hair mussed like spilled gold and his pants pushed too low on his hips. Minho wanted to kiss him senseless, wanted to taste every inch of his skin, and hear him come apart.

"Right," Newt admitted in reluctant agreement. His lips formed the slash of a smile. "So behave yourself."

"Make me," Minho challenged. He felt that snarky smile under his mouth as he kissed Newt again, long and hard. Newt's arms looped around his waist, so that his hands could find the flex of muscle in Minho's back. Nails dug into his skin under his shoulder blades and Minho shuddered. He became almost harsh, unrelenting in his kisses, fingertips falling to grip Newt's thigh. Newt let out a moan, instinctively canting his hips up into Minho's.

And Minho completely lost his mind.

"Angel, please," he whimpered, his mouth traveling down to Newt's throat. "Please, let me make love to you. God, I want you so—" He broke off with another shaky sound at the sight of Newt's head tipping back to expose more of his neck to Minho; the silky curve of the blonde's throat was terribly tantalizing. Minho remembered the mark Newt had left on his own neck and he burned so badly to do the same thing to his husband.

"Minho..." The name was torn from Newt in a groan, as Minho closed his mouth over the blonde's neck. He left sweet, butterfly kisses, then nipped once at the skin. His hand slipped under Newt's thigh, wrapping his leg around Minho's waist.

He was so utterly high with Newt, with Newt's sugary scent, with Newt's skin, with Newt's crystalline voice. He needed more more more. He knew he should stop, because if he didn't, he'd give in. He was too close now; his body wrapped around Newt's, Newt's hands now on his sides, it was all too much. He was too in love with Newt to say no. He'd always been too in love to say no.

Suddenly, Newt chose then to get a good grip on Minho's shoulders and flip them over. "No," Minho managed in a tiny voice, as his back pressed into the mattress. But he didn't mean it. Newt's mouth found the N inked in black on Minho's chest, kissing it softly. "N—Newt. Please—" Minho was cut off when Newt's lips met his again. Newt kissed him smolderingly, catching his lower lip between his teeth and making him hiss.

"You want me?" Newt asked, though it was more of a breath than a question. A statement. His hand resting low on Minho's stomach was the real question.

Minho's fingers threading into Newt's hair was the answer. "Yes," he breathed back.

"Then. Give in." Newt whispered it as though it was some wicked thing he knew Minho wanted. He was bolder now in his teasings, running teeth and tongue up Minho's throat, back to his ear.

Minho tightened his hold on Newt's hair and tried to calm himself down, compose himself. But he couldn't, not when Newt was kissing his neck and searing his skin with touch. He gritted his teeth and then sighed.

"...fine."

Newt pulled back to look at Minho's face. There was shock written across his features. But behind the shock came triumph. Minho glared at him and he chuckled, the sound like faraway bells. "Then I win," he murmured.

"We can talk about who shucking won later," Minho quipped. "Take your damn clothes off."

Newt would've laughed again, but Minho was already kissing him once more. The blonde sobered immediately. With a tiny sound in the back of his throat, he angled his head to get closer. Minho lost himself in Newt. He didn't care that he had lost anymore (though he'd probably care the next day). He had Newt back, FINALLY, and he was going to drown himself in this.

Their kissing was wild, their hands tearing at clothing to find more and more skin. When there was nothing more between them, Minho touched Newt's shoulder to flip them over again. To his surprise, he was stopped by Newt's hand on his chest. Newt's grin flashed in the dark. "You lost," he whispered, "so you're not getting the upper hand now."

Minho thought of a smart comeback to that, but had no time to say it. Newt bent to place his lips on the lazy curve of Minho's shoulder, moving with awful slowness toward his neck. Minho felt teeth dragging over his collarbone and he inhaled shakily. Newt's body on top of his drove him to the breaking point, every brush of a hand on his chest, the tangle of their legs. Then Newt let himself sink into Minho, for the first time in three weeks, and Minho had to bite his lip to stop himself from groaning out loud.

"God, Minho," Newt gasped into his ear, sounding wonderfully breathless and unravelled. He moved his body once against Minho's, and Minho mewled softly, trying to keep it in check. Pleasure was dancing through him like sparks and he had to have more of it. Newt rocked his hips forward again, and this time, Minho moaned low in his throat. Newt shivered at the sound. When he moved for the third time, he didn't stop, and Minho's back arched up off the mattress with ecstasy. Fire laced his veins. This was how it was with them; they were electric, and like fireworks, and like no one had ever been more meant for each other. At some point, Newt found a sweet spot without meaning to, the nerves that would make Minho go out of his mind. Minho's nails scraped into Newt's lower back as his moans changed to delirious sounds of pleasure, and he shamelessly begged Newt for more.

After almost a month, they made love for the first time, and the second, and the third, before they at last fell asleep wrapped around each other.

-o-o-o-

When Minho woke up, he had no idea what time it was. There was morning sunlight filtering in from between the curtains, golden and buttery. Judging by the brightness, he guessed it to be about eleven. He squinted, lifting a hand to block out the glare. God, he half-wanted to go back to sleep again. But coffee was calling to him from the kitchen, so he reluctantly raked his hands through his rumpled hair to wake himself up. Stifling a yawn, he propped himself up on his elbows, the covers slipping down his chest.

That was when he noticed Newt. He blinked. And then a grin etched itself on his lips. There was something undeniably sexy about finding his husband stretched out beside him, one hand tucked under the pillow and the other splayed at Minho's navel. Newt's hair was a mess, his bare shoulders lean under the sun's rays, and his lanky form pressed against Minho's side. He was overwhelmingly stunning.

Minho smoothed some of the hair back from Newt's forehead, watching the blonde's eyelashes twitch as he dreamed. Memories of last night flooded back to him, and a shudder ran down his spine. He glanced around the room and flushed in faint embarrassment. Clothes littered the floor, and draped over the bedside table, forgotten. Half the sheets were on the ground and the bed looked as though someone had beaten the crap out of it. Not to mention the small marks Minho's teeth had left on Newt's neck. He grimaced guiltily at that and stroked a finger over every one of them. As he did, Newt's eyelids fluttered and then opened. Eyes like blue glass rose to Minho's and one side of Newt's mouth curled up. "Hey," he mumbled sleepily.

"Hey," Minho replied, smiling. "It's morning."

"No, really?" Newt arched a brow, then buried his cheek against the pillow again. He peeked once at their room. "...well, damn."

"Oh, so you noticed?"

"That our room looks like it belongs to sex addicts? Yes, yes, I did."

Minho chuckled. "Maybe I am a little addicted," he admitted. Then he trailed his knuckles over Newt's shoulder. "But only to you."

"You're taking losing so well," Newt remarked with an evil smirk. He sat up halfway, braced on one arm. The sheets only covered him from the waist down, and he looked like he'd done bad things in the night, and he was obscenely gorgeous in the morning light.

Minho met Newt's words with a shake of his head. "You'll never let me live this down, will you?" he asked ruefully.

"Never," Newt confirmed. Then he planted a hand on Minho's hip and stretched up for a kiss.

Minho kissed back languidly, one hand coming up to cup Newt's cheek. He could never have resisted Newt for long. He was such a drug to Minho. They broke apart and Minho brushed his nose over Newt's affectionately. "I love you, angel," he murmured.

Newt smiled radiantly. "I love you too, Min."

He sank back onto the mattress as Minho swung his legs over the side and stood up. Wearing only boxers, he stretched his arms over his head and felt the muscles pull languorously. He eyed the doorway, then glanced over his shoulder at Newt. "I'm gonna take a shower, okay?"

"Mm-hm," was the hummed reply.

Minho raised his eyebrows and his classic smirk twisted his lips. "You wanna come with me?"

Newt was out of bed in two seconds flat.


End file.
